Buffy frowned and turned back to Spike and Xander. "Don't you think that was kind of rude of them to --"
She stopped short when she saw Spike press his lips against Xander's forehead and stroke his tousled hair. An exclamation was on the tip of her tongue, but when Xander sighed and moved a bit closer to Spike, she merely made a choking sound.
"What's the matter?" Xander asked curiously. Spike's fingers were running through his hair, and Xander had his head tilted into the massaging touch.
"Oh, well, uh . . . nothing?" Buffy replied in a strained voice.
Spike dropped a kiss on Xander's head and stood. "Can't wait for tomorrow to find out what Angel knows -- if he can help, I want him to help now. Look after Xander, would you?"
"Look after Xander," Buffy repeated disbelievingly. "Those words seem like English, but . . ." She stopped herself from saying that it made no sense for *Spike* to tell her something like that when she saw Xander frown to himself and touch his head where Spike had kissed him.
"Good luck even getting in to that meeting," she said instead. She moved over to the couch and rested her hand on Xander's shoulder. "And Xander will be fine here with us," she added.
Spike shot her an annoyed look. "Yeah, sure Xander'll be fine here with you all -- tell me again the part about how you've cleverly figured out what's wrong with him."
"Hey!" Buffy exclaimed. "I've been out there--"
"Finding out nothing," Spike finished. "And the reason you couldn't get into Angel's little pow-wow is you'd make the demons all skittish. How's Angel supposed to broker a truce if the two sides are wondering what kind of trouble you're going to stir up?"
"Makes sense," Xander said half-grudgingly, half-admiringly. When Buffy looked askance at him, he mouthed "What?" at her.
"Fine," Buffy said as she turned back to Spike. "Go. See if you can get some answers. Just . . . go."
With a snort in Buffy's direction, and a small nod in Xander's, Spike left.
"Maybe I should check on Will and Giles," Buffy said, starting to move toward the kitchen.
"Buff, they'll come back when they've figured stuff out," Xander said. He paused and glanced at Buffy's tightened jaw. "Don't wig."
"I'm just trying to figure out what's up so I can fix it," Buffy said slowly and deliberately. "I'm *not* wigging."
"But you are," Xander said quietly. "You're freaked out that I slept with Spike. And you want to ask questions but you don't know if you should. It's making you jumpy, and that's making me feel ookier."
Buffy sat on the edge of the coffee table, and decided to take the part of Xander's words she could deal with. "It's not just me that's making you feel ooky, Xander."
"I know, I know; demonic influenza," Xander said. He pulled himself up a bit, and made a face when he had to lean back again.
She rested her hands on her knees and peered at him. "Yeah, demonic influenza."
A few moments passed while Xander turned on the couch and sighed and Buffy watched him with a keen eye.
"Hey, Xander? . . . And don't take this the wrong way . . . but you know, you looked a little better when I came in a few minutes ago. Up until when Spike left, you had some color. And your eyes didn't look so glaze-y. But now . . ."
Xander's hands flew to his face as if he could figure out how he looked by tapping his fingers against his cheeks. "Damn. I did feel kind of okay for a little while . . . and now I feel like I'm going to hurl again." On cue, he clutched his stomach.
"Want a bucket or something?" Buffy asked, scooting over on the table warily.
"Nah," Xander said miserably. "Don't think I have anything else left in me."
"Wish they'd come back in and tell us what's up," Buffy said, nodding her head towards the kitchen.
"You and me both."
She reached out and clutched his hand impulsively. Xander managed to give her a watery smile in return.
"We think we may have established a few things," Giles announced as he came back into the living room. "At least, we have ideas about what sort of tests we'll need to run now."
"Tests?" Buffy asked in confusion. "I thought this was spell-detective-material."
"Uh, see that's just it," Willow said in a rush. She stood beside Giles and twisted her hands nervously. "We think a spell might have been at the root of this . . . but what's happening now is a natural effect . . . well, not *typically* natural in this kind of situation . . . But it looks like this is more of a job for plain old reading of chemical reactions."
Xander exchanged a nervous look with Buffy. "Is that good news or bad news?" he asked.
Willow seemed about to answer, but Giles spoke first. "I think it best that we wait until after we've investigated some possibilities to answer more of your questions."
"Put that I'm now officially terrified at the top of your list of symptoms," Xander muttered.
At this Buffy squeezed Xander's hand so tightly that Xander gave a high-pitched yelp.
"Oh! Sorry, Xander, sorry!"
"That's okay," Xander gasped. He slumped back against the pile of pillows and took a deep breath. One of his hands went to rest on his stomach while the other lifted to massage his temples.
"Okay -- look at that. Xander's gotten much worse now that Spike's been gone for a while," Buffy said suddenly. "I was saying it before, and he's even paler now. When Spike was in the house, Xander was starting to look okay. But now . . . how come, do you think?"
Willow coughed so hard that Giles had to whap her on her back. He almost imperceptibly shook his head at her, and she answered in an overly-lighthearted tone. "Well . . . that could mean anything and nothing, so I don't think you should worry too much about--"
"What did he do to me?" Xander interrupted. His face paled and he grabbed at his blanket in apprehension. "Is this Spike's fault after all?"
Giles' lips twisted slightly. "I'd say that's what we're about to discover."
"Oh, Xander," Willow said feelingly.
"Oh, Xander what?" Xander asked. He was having trouble catching his breath, and his gaze flew to rest on each of them in turn before his eyes decided to roll back into his head.
"There he goes again," he heard Buffy say distantly, and he watched his eyelids as his vision greyed and then went dark.
* * *
"What's up with me waking up in a different location every time I come to?" Xander complained when he realized he was now ensconced on the couch at Giles' place.
"You seemed awake enough earlier when you kicked me in the chest as I tried to right you," Giles grumbled from the side chair.
"I told you that Xander sleep-kicks," Willow said gently as she sat on the end of the couch and patted Xander's feet.
"Yes, well, now I know about that idiosyncrasy first-hand," Giles said with a mock bow from his seat. He turned his head to Xander once more. "We're here because we needed access to certain materials in my apartment to run the tests."
Xander sat up a bit and put out a hand to steady himself. "Hello again to the dizziness. Any idea about which test we're going to try first?"
"We kind of did one while you were asleep," Willow said in a rush. "It just required a simple follicle sample to--"
"Hey!" Xander protested when he felt the almost-bare patch of hair at the base of his scalp. He looked at each of them accusingly.
"Oh, you can hardly see that," Giles said impatiently.
"Maybe *I* can't see the back of my own head, but anyone else who bothers to look . . . Hey, where's Spike?" Xander asked suddenly.
Willow very deliberately did *not* look at Giles. "He left while we were at Buffy's, remember? And then he stayed at Angel's what with the sun being up. But I though that, uh, you might want to see . . . or at least you might *feel* better if . . . well, anyway, Oz is giving him a ride back over here soon. Giles wants to tell everyone what the deal is once we've ruled out any chance of error."
"Unlikely that there has been any error," Giles said quietly, and Willow raised her voice with increased enthusiasm.
"Yup, so he'll be around soon, and Buffy is talking with Angel finally, and Oz'll be back too. We'll all be here for you. Everybody except Angel, that is, because he said he had to get something else for that clan negotiation brouhaha."
Xander waved his hand impatiently at her. "Okay, normally I'd ask how the Glaz'broth clan thingy is going, but I've got to admit, Will, you're distracting me out with the 'everyone will soon arrive and gather around to watch Xander die' talk."
"No one is dying," Giles said firmly.
"Then what's *happening*?" Xander asked. "If I'm not dead, and what's going on is all natural like Willow said before, how come you can't just tell me?"
"Xander, remember how you always talked about how you wanted to have kids?" Willow asked quickly.
"Uh, no," Xander answered. "I've never talked about that in my life. I think you've confused me with another Xander who likes to plan for his future. Besides, what does that have to do with anything?"
"How do you feel about raising children?" Giles inquired. "Do you have any objection to being around them? And what about--"
"I don't know," Xander said in confusion. "Is this some kind of weird test to figure out if something has messed with my procreative urges?"
"Oh, your procreative urges seem to be functioning perfectly," Giles reassured him. He cleared his throat nervously when Willow signaled that he should stop speaking.
"Ooooookaaaaay," Xander said with wide eyes. "Uh, Willow? Want to tell me what's up?'
Willow pressed her palms together and began. "Xander . . . I never thought I'd be saying this -- not that it's bad! It's unusual, that's for sure. Remember, though, just because something is different doesn't mean that it's wrong, even if it's not what we usually think of when . . . But I think you'll do really well, and everyone will help out, so it won't even be a question of how it'll work. It's kind of amazing, really, and you're like a trailblazer, a genuine pioneer, and years from now, people will--"
Xander held up one hand. "Willow. Stop. What is it?"
Willow took a deep breath. "Congratulations, Xander. You're pregnant."
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